Milkvetch
by seiyuna
Summary: There's a child in the cradle of his arms, quiet and compliant as she stares up at Kurapika. The child's eyes are red and that can only be an omen. — Kid fic/family AU.
1. Chapter 1

**hope for better days**

The Kuruta clan is reborn like this:

There's a child in the cradle of his arms, quiet and compliant as she stares up at Kurapika. The child's eyes are red, and that can only be an omen.

It's one thing to see these eyes in his reflection in the mirror—furious and ablaze, in glass canisters displayed like trophies—observant and lifeless. It's another thing entirely to see them looking up at him, when Kurapika is the first person she's ever seen in this world.

He vows to protect her, and it's the fiercest he has ever felt in his life.

* * *

 **tears at the heart of things**

For someone without qualms, Kuroro hesitates.

Kurapika offers her out to him, because even if he is the last person who should be a father, has no idea how to be a father, she is still his child. Kurapika is quick to point out how she has inherited the downturn slant of his eyes and unfortunately, his eyebrows. Even so, he only sees Kurapika when he looks at her.

"You should hold her," Kurapika murmurs, and he looks more tired than he's ever been. He's ready to sleep after endless nights of staying awake, and he deserves it.

Despite the tension between them and an abstract feeling of apprehension, Kuroro receives her as gently as he possibly can. He's never done anything like this before, and she's so small that he feels as if he's holding onto her too tightly. He thinks that he'll make her cry within moments—but she only blinks at him, impossibly calm.

He cannot believe the intensity of the color of her eyes, and it only takes a moment for him to realize that he's crying when he sees his tears as they fall. Kurapika's hand comes to sweep them away from his cheek, and the gesture makes his chest feel like it's being stretched too tight to accommodate the newfound affection inside him.

* * *

 **sun and moon and stars**

When so many come into this world without an identity, they give her a name.

They call her Runa, in hopes that she will share their love for learning. But some nights, when Kuroro wakes to find her and Kurapika resting beside him in his bed, he has other thoughts about the matter.

All of the lights are off in the room, but the moonlight filters through the curtains and spills across the sheets. Kuroro leans on his elbow and takes in the simplicity of the moment—of the steady rise and fall of their chests and the soft sound of their breathing.

It is ineffable, how the light kisses their skin and glides through their hair. But it is also rather fitting, because if Kurapika is the sun personified, then Kuroro will lend her name to the goddess of the moon.

* * *

 **steadfast faith**

"I don't know how to raise her."

Kuroro takes a seat on the edge of the bed, just as Kurapika is finishing getting dressed. Kurapika knows well enough that Kuroro will let him leave, that he will not stop him from going, but the unexpected vulnerability in his voice is not something that sits well with him.

It's not as if Kurapika is planning to abandon them and partake in an extended vacation—rather, he's ready to return to his old routine. After months of hanging in his closet, the black suit still fits the contours of his body, just as he remembers.

"We'll learn," Kurapika answers—we, because this is a beginning for the both of them. He leans down to press a soft kiss to the tattoo on Kuroro's forehead, assuring that he will come home soon and so much more.

They will adapt.

They will raise her properly, and give her a life that neither of them had.

* * *

 **secret garden**

Runa is adamant about remaining quiet around him, not making a sound unless it's time for her to be fed.

Kuroro wonders if she recognizes that he is her father too, when Kurapika is the one who holds her in his arms and sings her the songs of his people. It's even more quiet when Kurapika has left for work, and only the two of them remain.

As soon as they finish lunch, she reaches out to Kuroro, seeking contact, and he has no other option but to oblige. Taking care to lift her, he takes her outside for a new change of pace. The garden in front of their residence only consists of edible fruits and vegetables per Kurapika's idea, but Kuroro thinks that more can be done.

Kuroro keeps a small sketchbook in his back pocket, with pages that are faded and torn from overuse. With his free hand, he retrieves it and unfolds his sketches of what could be. The complex design is evident of his extensive research on flowers, and some parts of the paper are rough from how often he erased.

It is something that he has yet to mention to Kurapika, and because the silence gets to him, he speaks to Runa.

Kuroro thinks that it's ridiculous, but he tells her how there's no need for Kurapika to work when he can support their family and generations to come, how he's wondering about what Kurapika's doing right now, and what kind of flowers he wants to plant in their garden. She lets out a soft yawn, apparently made tired by how much he has to say.

Everything he tries to grow seems to die, but he wants to prove to Kurapika that he's capable of nurturing even the smallest of things.

* * *

 **reflection**

Kurapika keeps in touch as best as he can.

It doesn't take long for their video call to connect, and two familiar faces appear on his phone screen. Their resemblance is uncanny, even if Kuroro denies such an observation. It makes Kurapika think that Kuroro doesn't want her to look like him at all, because he doesn't want her to end up like him—

"How are things?" Kurapika asks instead.

At the sound of his voice, a smile of Runa's own blooms across her small face. It's rather lovely, and Kurapika smiles in turn.

From the way that Kuroro looks at her, he seems miffed at how she happily coos and reaches for the phone screen. "We're both alive and I haven't burned the house down yet."

"That's reassuring."

"She wants to see you." The expression on Kuroro's face softens. "I do too."

Kurapika smiles gently, and all of his love and affection in the world is condensed into this one phrase. "I'll see you soon."

It's a promise.

* * *

Notes:

I don't know what compelled me to write this, so I was hesitant in uploading. Some of you guys asked for it, so...

It is extremely difficult to write kurokura in a family setting. I actually don't know which AU this story would be set in T_T It would be nice if I could set this in my omegaverse AU, but I decided against it since I have not completed my most recent fic in that series.

I'll leave it to your imagination, as most of my other fics develop kurokura's relationship from enemies to lovers, and this one is my first time writing an established relationship from the very beginning.

Please feel free to leave a comment! You can also reach out to me on Tumblr at seiyuna if you have any ideas.


	2. Chapter 2

**bloodline**

Sometimes, Kurapika feels like he's betraying them.

It happens when he's not expecting it.

When he passes by a congregation and catches the scent of incense, he thinks of how many bodies were burned that night, and if he made the right choice in letting his clan's murderers stand.

When he receives a call from Kuroro late at night, just before he's about to sleep, he thinks about how he chose to be with Kuroro, if his clan would ever understand his choice, drained by years of fostering hatred and burning himself out for vengeance.

When he sees how his child looks at him with eyes as red as his own, he should be proud that his blood will not die with rest of his clan—will not die with him. But it only serves as a reminder, of the price these eyes have demanded he pay.

Kurapika hasn't forgotten.

But he remembers other things too. He's spent years of his life on that fine line, crossing over and only brought back through the efforts of people who believed that he was better than he was. He's entrusted Kuroro with his desire to change things, to ensure that another version of him would never rise from the ashes of his clan.

How much better are his daughter's chances of not becoming bound to the massacre, of ending up blind to the people who love her? Perhaps she will never have a reason to destroy herself for the sake of revenge.

Perhaps she will never cross that line.

The last thing Kurapika wants is for her to be defined by the aftermath—to be the product of something or someone rather than her own person. She is neither Kuroro's redemption nor his—only her own, untethered by the ghosts that have been left behind.

There's no limit to what she can do with that freedom.

* * *

 **reunion**

The question comes from Killua first.

"Why didn't you take her with you?"

They're sitting around at a table outside of a café, after nearly a year of not being in contact. It's only chance that their paths crossed, and Kurapika takes time from his schedule to meet. He pays too much money for a simple cup of black coffee here. The cardboard is thin, but the coffee feels satisfyingly warm against his hands.

"Because it's dangerous," Kurapika starts to say, taking a sip of his coffee, "when there are those who would pay billions for her eyes alone."

Killua doesn't seem entirely convinced, and he's always been good at reading between the lines. "Nothing you and the Danchou guy can't handle. Did you reduce him to a housewife or something?"

Kurapika has to admit that the image is amusing, but there are far more complex reasons than that. The reactions that he received from Killua and Gon aren't even close to his expectations. They don't seem the least surprised that his relationship with Kuroro has developed this far.

"We want to meet her too," Gon chirps, looking too excited for his own good. His eyes are bright as Kurapika shows him photos on his phone, from Runa's first moments into life to her candid shots that Kuroro continues to send him. "Wouldn't it be like having a little sister?"

"You're more than welcome to come visit." Kurapika smiles, thinking how their house would be more lively with guests. "Leorio, too."

"If you're thinking that we'll be your babysitters, we're not doing it for free," Killua grumbles, and they all laugh.

* * *

 **viewfinder**

The package waiting for Kuroro is unexpectedly large. Perhaps Kurapika had sent them a package, but it's unlike him to do so and there's a lack of return address on the box.

As he opens the box, a yellow dog wearing a beret smiles at him. It's a large plush toy, slightly disfigured from being packed and sealed into the box, and there are smaller toys as well as children's rompers of the same character. He continues to pull more and more merchandise from the box, and since neither he nor Kurapika care too much about toys, this must be a case of a misdelivery.

Underneath the contents of the box, a card catches his attention. Kuroro notices with some surprise, that a line of familiar handwriting is inside.

 _Congratulations._

 _—M._

He turns to Runa, who only looks at him curiously from where she's lying down. With a shared curiosity, he picks up the clothing, the material soft in his hands. She doesn't fuss as Kuroro slips it over her and pulls the hood over her head. It's far too large as the hood falls over her eyes, and she makes a small sound, moving her hands to remove it.

The sight is too endearing not to capture. He snaps a few photos with his phone and opens a chatroom that Shalnark left behind, finding that he hasn't missed much in terms of messages. Their group chat is often quiet, save for when they plan to reconvene.

As much as Kuroro wants to take her to meet them, Kurapika would never forgive him if he did.

For now, he chooses a photo and presses the send button.

* * *

 **convergence**

Kurapika gets two messages from Kuroro while he's at work.

This is the thing that he never forgets to do—let Kurapika know that he can always come home.

The first is a photo of their garden, freshly planted with marigolds, chrysanthemums, and red spider lilies, because Kuroro notes that they reminded him of Kurapika. It's not like Kuroro at all to be sentimental, so he lingers on this message for a moment too long. He brings himself to wonder if he says that because of the colors, or something more intangible.

The second is a photo of Runa, looking into the camera with flushed cheeks. She's dressed in a pair of odd pajamas, something that Kurapika most definitely did not purchase, but lowered on her head is a circle of flowers twined together like a crown of red and gold.

There is a small and secretive smile on Kurapika's face, as Kuroro's newfound hobbies are just too amusing. It's just as interesting to see her with their own eyes, but only now Kuroro wants to steal these moments and keep them forever.

* * *

 **welcome back**

The moment Kurapika walks through the door, one of his hands resting on the doorframe as he takes off his shoes, there is the sound of laughter like wind chimes.

Kuroro's hands stop moving against the dishes, as the water continues to stream from the faucet. It's a little different, to have his hands roughened by domesticity, but he finds that he doesn't mind. Pulling off his apron, he wanders away from the kitchen.

"I'm home," Kurapika says softly. He sweeps up Runa from her highchair, and her small hands are already reaching for his face, touching, feeling, recognizing the face of her father. As she laughs, he presses a kiss to her forehead.

A smile tugs at Kuroro's lips, even if he has yet to succeed in making Runa smile and laugh like that. "It's nice to see you."

Kurapika shifts his hold on Runa to one arm so he can pull Kuroro into an embrace with his other arm. His lips meets Kuroro's own in a gentle kiss, and Kuroro has to practice a certain amount of restraint to not pick him up and press him against the kitchen counter.

"You two look well," Kurapika comments as he pulls away, and his smile is radiant. "This wasn't as bad as you expected, right?"

Kuroro makes a soft sound of agreement, leaning in to kiss Kurapika again, until they're both flushed and breathing hard, parting only because Runa whines at the lack of attention.

Kurapika laughs. "You did well, Kuroro."

* * *

 **bloom**

"What're you doing?"

With Runa in his arms, he peers over Kuroro's back, watching as Kuroro buries the bulbs and roots of flowers into what had previously been another flowerbed. They fit snugly into the indentation he's made with the shovel.

Silence stretches between them for a long moment. "Replacing the ones that died."

Kurapika sits down on the ground as he sets Runa upon a blanket. With the heat of summer fading into autumn, she is covered in protective clothing and a large hat in case the sun is still too harsh on her skin, something that Kuroro learned during his absence. She reaches for one of the smaller flowers, and there is a brief moment of fear that she'll put it in her mouth.

It comes as a surprise that Kuroro pays her no mind. Kurapika's fears are unfounded as she only brushes her hand against the petals, feeling the texture beneath her skin, like she's coaxing them to blossom into something brighter.

Kurapika does the same for her.

* * *

Notes:

The character is Pompompurin from Sanrio, since I like making fun of Kuroro's love for flan/pudding (and so does Machi). There's a kigurumi for it out there, and I thought it would be cute.

Please feel free to leave a comment. You can also reach out to me on Tumblr at seiyuna if you have any ideas. I'm open to prompts/AU ideas if you have them.


	3. Chapter 3

**sea glass**

"What did you want to see first?"

It's very much like Kuroro to defer to his decision when it comes to their outings, but Kurapika tires of it easily. He doesn't want to be the one deciding all of the time, especially when Kuroro had been the one to choose the location. "I don't know. Are there any dolphins?"

"It wouldn't be much of an aquarium without them." With the guidebook in hand, Kuroro locates the exhibit on the map, intent on leading the way. His gait is confident, despite that he always manages to get them lost.

The venue isn't too crowded during this time of day—no families waiting in lines or groups of children on school trips. There aren't any curious looks from the people around them, but they get attention of a different sort. Kurapika knows the reaction well: the faint traces of a blush, the doting smile, the too-loud whispers of how attractive his partner is.

It doesn't help that Kuroro can make even the most casual of clothing look like something more, despite wearing only a simple shirt and jeans. The fact that he's carrying an infant makes him even more attractive, according to the excited whispers of the women around him.

Kuroro looks back at him when he's fallen out of step, with Runa staring in an affection echo. For a moment, he doesn't move, and then—

He unapologetically takes Kurapika's hand in his, tugging him in the right direction. "The dolphins, right?"

"Yes," Kurapika answers slowly, and there's an unmistakable hint of a smile on Kuroro's lips.

The exhibit is dark, save for the soft light of the tank casting over the floor and along the walls. It's a more popular attraction than the rest, and Kuroro finds a space for them against the glass. Not once does he let go of Kurapika's hand.

If anything, his fingers clasp around Kurapika's even tighter. The deep blue light ripples over their faces, making it difficult to see Kuroro's expression. His gaze remains just as transfixed as Runa on the glass, expectant.

Without even turning towards him, Kuroro smiles to himself. "You should be looking at the tank instead of me."

"I am," Kurapika mumbles. His face feels as warm as Kuroro's hold on his hand and he hates how tight his chest feels, as if this is the first time they're going out together. He should stop being so ridiculous.

The grey body of a dolphin swims into view and eases past them, close enough that Runa makes a sound of surprise. Kuroro steps back from the display and points her attention to the trail of silver fish that follow. It's an endearing sight, how she's spellbound by the grace of the sea.

Another dolphin, slightly larger this time, approaches the glass but stops to observe the visitors. It flips upside down in the water and Kurapika waves an arc with his free hand, encouraging it to follow the motion. The dolphin comes even closer and rotates its entire body in a halo, drawing a delighted laugh from Runa.

Kurapika finds himself smiling too. They take their time reading the signs and placards attached to the exhibit, musing about newly learned things. They always do—it's how they manage to stay at museums until closing time.

"It's a rare species," Kuroro says, nodding towards the glass.

"Not like you can take it home with you—" Kurapika quickly changes his words when Kuroro arches an eyebrow in amusement. "Please don't try anything here."

"I won't," Kuroro says, and that nearly makes Kurapika let out a sigh in relief. "I do want a photo, but my hands are full."

Neither of them have been to a place like this, so it would make sense to take photos. Their circumstances still feel awkward to Kurapika, because they're a family now, supposedly doing things that families would do. He takes out his phone with his free hand, but it's more difficult than expected to capture all three of them with the dolphins in a selfie. An employee eventually offers to take the photo for them, and Kurapika accepts in quiet gratitude.

The rest of their day is captured in photos, but they're mostly of Kuroro touching the stingrays, feeding the penguins, and posing with the sharks. He clearly goes out of his way to be more—adventurous, if Kurapika has to describe it, to garner a reaction from Runa. More often than not, he falls short.

The three of them are sitting in the stands at a dolphin show now, a few rows away from the pool. Kurapika has taken precautions to pull a translucent poncho over Runa since they're sitting so close to the water. It wasn't his idea to be so close, and he couldn't be certain if getting wet would upset her.

It doesn't take long to find out, because a pair of dolphins make their long-awaited entrance in a fantastic display, flipping in the air and descending with a splash. Kurapika turns Runa's face towards his chest and the next thing he knows, water falls over their heads like a heavy downpour of rain and the sudden shock of _cold_ makes him hold his daughter even tighter. Exclamations from the other spectators resound in his ears, startled and delighted, and he wishes that they had sat farther away from the front. His hair and clothes are drenched, but he isn't the only one.

Kuroro's styled hair has lost its hold, plastered against his forehead, and his white shirt is nearly transparent on his skin. He still looks handsome, but the surprise on his face is almost comical.

"I told you so," Kurapika ends up saying, but the sudden peal of laughter surprises them both. Runa seems to find the sight just as amusing, can't stop giggling at how dumbfounded Kuroro looks.

Kuroro drags a hand through his hair to shake off the water, brushing his sodden bangs away from his forehead, reminding Kurapika too much of the sea lions they visited earlier. He looks like he wants to say something, but sneezes.

"She laughed," Kuroro says, holding in another sneeze, "so mission accomplished."

* * *

 **meteor shower**

It's Kuroro's turn to leave.

The circumstances of his excursion haven't been disclosed to Kurapika, but he's learned not to ask. It's something that would surely upset Kurapika if he found out, but there's a mutual understanding between them, so he chooses to keep quiet.

They're all at the airport because for whatever reason, Kurapika insisted on seeing him off. It's been a while since he's been able to travel to his homeland, especially since he's been by their child's side since birth. He's watched her grow from someone small enough to fit in one of his hands to a child who outgrew all of the clothes he carefully chose for her.

Kuroro likes to think that Runa has accustomed herself to his presence since she doesn't hesitate to reach out to him, sometimes playing with the fringe of his hair or tugging on his earrings. Too often though, she watches him with that calm, quiet stare without saying a word. He wonders if she will even care that he'll be away.

Right before his flight, he presses a kiss to the corner of Kurapika's lips, a promise to return soon. He gently pats Runa on the head, remembering the softness of her ever-growing hair, and turns away.

He takes only one step, when she pulls on his jacket with a soft sound.

" _Papa_."

Kuroro almost doesn't hear it. He looks back at them, wondering if he was hearing things, but the surprise on Kurapika's face says that he didn't. He bends down to look at her and the way she reaches for him despite being in Kurapika's arms—tugs at something in his chest. He feels too much for someone who is said to feel nothing at all.

"Oh." There's a curious smile on Kurapika's lips. "She knows who her father is."

"Are you Mama then?" Kuroro asks, receiving a punch on the shoulder in response. He chuckles, despite himself, and wonders if he deserves to be called that.

" _Papa_ ," she repeats, louder this time, and it takes everything for him to leave.

* * *

 **fever**

Kurapika wrings out a washcloth from a basin of cool water. There's a flush on his daughter's face and it worries him, seeing her so small and unwell. Neither he nor Kuroro have been ill for years now, and it's the first time that he's seen her unhealthy.

Leaning over the bed, he lays the washcloth over her forehead. She doesn't flinch or shiver at the cold, only continues breathing heavier than usual. He presses the back of his hand against her cheek, and she's hot to the touch.

Healing is not something in which Kurapika fares well in, especially when it comes to others. It doesn't help that she is still so young and vulnerable, unbeknownst to the world of Nen. But that is something Leorio is good at—taking away pain.

When Kuroro is away, he has no choice but to call Leorio. He never fails to pick up Kurapika's calls, even if it is late in the evening now.

The situation is nothing new to Leorio, considering how many patients he's seen throughout the course of his career. "Have you given her anything to drink?"

Kurapika glances at the water on the bedside table. "She refuses everything."

"Try again, even if it's just a little bit. You need to keep her hydrated."

"Alright—" Kurapika's voice is still tense. "I'll do that. Should I give her any medication?"

"Not yet. You should give her a lukewarm bath and see if she feels better then. The fever should break tomorrow but if it doesn't, I'll come over to check up on her."

"Thank you," Kurapika says. The certainty in Leorio's voice eases the weight in his heart, calms him down more when he knows the next steps to take. "Kuroro will be back soon too, so I guess I shouldn't worry too much."

There's a brief moment of silence between them, where only the sound of Runa's breathing can be heard. "Is he—treating you well?"

"He is," Kurapika says without hesitation, and that's all he needs to know.

"Good," comes Leorio's satisfied answer. "That's good."

* * *

 **overgrowth**

Long before she learns how to speak in sentences, Runa weaves in and out of their garden on her own two feet.

Kurapika watches over her from the veranda, how her hands are drawn from flower to flower, all of them crimson and gold. The scents of fragrant herbs and damp earth permeate the air, something that reminds him of home. He thinks that it won't be long before her feet will take her far from here, far from them.

"You've plucked too many again," Kurapika says, when Runa carries an armful inside the house. A knowing smile blossoms on her face and she carries on, arranging her choice of flowers in the vases throughout the room.

It doesn't bother him, considering that these flowers have only been able to survive by her hand. Over the past year, she's picked up some of Kuroro's hobbies, no matter how unsuitable they seem to be for him. She approaches him when she's done, a small flower in her hand.

"For me?" Kurapika sets down his book. "Thank you."

There are words unspoken but the smile on her face is more than enough.

* * *

 **tradition**

Kurapika's blood runs through her veins, but there aren't more than five words of his language on her tongue.

Sometimes she hears Kurapika as he speaks to old photographs, the dying words clinging like dust to the picture frames. They're pictures of his family, and they died long before she was born. Even with his back turned to her, Kurapika knows that she's lingering by the doorway, so he beckons her closer. She's at the age where she wants to know about everyone and everything, always coming to him to sate her curiosity.

When she asks, Kurapika tells her everything, whispers phrases in his language, but how his family died is something he'll tell her when she's older.

* * *

 **secret**

On the other hand, Kuroro never tells her stories.

At least, not in the way she wants him to.

He reads her all different kinds of literature, but doesn't tell her anything about himself. They have an expansive space dedicated to their library, and she thinks that they'll never run of books, but what she wants to know about him could never compare. It doesn't help that he's absent at times, only returning home after months, so she wonders what he could be doing if he doesn't actually have a profession like Kurapika does.

Kurapika once said that Kuroro had spent more time with her than himself, but she had been too young to remember. She can try to imagine it through the photos in their albums, but still—

"Tell me how you met Daddy," Runa says, taking the book out of his hands and placing it on the bedside table. The gesture seems to surprise Kuroro, but it's difficult for her to concentrate on the book when the heroine annoys her so much.

"At a hotel," Kuroro says with a straight face. He never outright lies to her, but sometimes he avoids telling the truth. "Kurapika kidnapped me when we first met."

She laughs, because he looks too serious while saying something so strange. She tries to imagine it, but the thought is so ridiculous that she thinks that Kuroro is trying to weave his own story. "Really?"

Kuroro smiles. "It's true. I'll tell you another time, though."

She's heard this too many times, and his words leave much to be desired. "Why can't you tell me now?"

"You'll understand when you're older."

Promises are always _later_ and _next time_ and sometimes she wonders when the time will come.

* * *

 **trouble**

"Don't I look like Papa now?"

Her latest creation makes her heart swell with pride. With markers as her tools and skin as her canvas, there's a crudely drawn spider on her arm and a cross between her eyebrows. While Kuroro looks amused, Kurapika is none too pleased about this.

"Kuroro," he says sternly. He bends down, brushing her hair away from her forehead. "I hope you have a good explanation for this."

Kurapika's eyes are bright, bright red, and she knows that they have done something wrong. Rather, she did something she wasn't supposed to and Kuroro is getting the blame for it. She likes how her eyes can be as bright as Kurapika's, but thinks that she can't find herself in Kuroro's features at all.

"I don't see a problem with it," Kuroro says slowly, "when we can just give her a bath later."

It makes Kurapika storm off to look for a washcloth.

When she gives Kuroro a questioning look, all he says is—

"Kurapika doesn't like spiders very much."

* * *

 **the burden of not knowing**

That's the thing.

Runa thinks that she's perfectly capable of comprehending, but sometimes it's difficult to understand even the smallest things. Kurapika has no problem scolding Kuroro, but when it comes to her, he never has anything harsh to say.

"I'm proud of you," Kurapika says. He tells her this all the time, like when she shows him a new illustration or reads a new book by herself, as if he'll hurt her feelings if he forgets to remind her.

"I'm so proud of you," he repeats, barely a whisper, and his words carve into her heart, weighing it down by something she dares not name.

* * *

 **to love what is mortal**

Runa loves her parents fiercely, but is burdened with the fear of losing them.

Sometimes Kurapika needs to go on a work-related trip and other times, Kuroro has to leave right when Kurapika returns. They tell her it's too dangerous for her to come with them, but she can't understand why.

What she does know, is that when they're together, they care for each other very much. They practice a certain amount of restraint in her presence, keeping kisses to a minimum and avoiding physical intimacy altogether.

She catches them kissing in the kitchen in the late hours of the night, like the way they do in the movies that Kurapika doesn't let her watch, with Kurapika leaning on the counter and Kuroro pressing against him. All she wanted was a cup of water, but she takes no more than a few steps from her room before spinning on her heel.

Covering her face with her hands, she fervently hopes that they didn't see her, because making Kurapika embarrassed is the last thing she wants to do. She returns to bed, heartened by the fact that they still love each other enough to kiss.

* * *

 **anniversary**

For many months, she waits until Kurapika is drawn into complacency. She carefully studies his schedule, waits for the right moment when he is alone with her, and forges onward. She's more calculating than he gives her credit for, but he pretends not to notice.

"Daddy—" Runa sets down her utensils on the table, having finished most of her dinner on her own. "Can I ask you something?"

The sound of the faucet running almost drowns out her words. "Of course."

"Do you still love Papa?"

Kurapika nearly drops the soap-sudded plate in his hands, because he certainly didn't expect that. His calm expression doesn't so much as change. "Why do you ask?"

"You haven't been talking to him lately." Runa swings her legs patiently, no longer sitting in her high chair since she's old enough to sit at the kitchen table now. "And you've been looking—sad. Did he make you sad?"

"I'm fine." Kurapika places the clean dishes on the rack and turns off the water. He approaches where she's sitting and gently taps her between her eyebrows, trying to ease the concern on her face. "This time of year, I prefer to be alone. Kuroro respects that."

"Okay. If it makes you feel better—I love you," she says, too solemn for a child her age.

* * *

 **revelation**

The moment the facts present themselves before Runa's eyes, comes denial.

Surely, this couldn't be true.

Surely, surely, surely.

Something within her _shatters_ , because her vision of how her parents came together had always been a story of mutual respect and ardent love. It's difficult not to resent Kuroro when the story is more like violent carnage, eyes being eviscerated from the sockets of Kurapika's loved ones, the desecration of ancestral lands and beautiful people.

"I hate you," she seethes, and there are tears stinging at the edge of her eyes. She isn't one for screaming, for breaking things and using her hands, because calm, deliberate words can hurt just as much.

It is the first time that Kuroro makes her cry. His face is sealed in marble, a fringe of dark hair over his eyes, and he doesn't seem ashamed at all, doesn't seem as surprised, as hurt as she is—though he should be.

Runa slams the door harder than she means to. It makes a loud, terrible sound, but she doesn't care, just throws herself onto the bed and swathes herself in her blankets. Her heart, nestled beneath her breastbone—too fragile, too big for someone as small as her—clenches.

She wants her words to hurt, she doesn't feel remorse for her cruelty, because nothing could ever come close to how much Kuroro hurt Kurapika. She wasn't meant to find out, wasn't supposed to overhear them speaking about it. Whenever Kurapika spoke of his clan to her, he always spoke in abstracts about the circumstances of their deaths. She knew they were gone, that Kurapika deeply hurt over them—but not—not like _this_ —

There's the sound of the bedroom door opening quietly, the pad of familiar footsteps, and the next thing she knows, a weight dips the mattress beneath her. Wanting to be left alone, she waits for his presence to leave her, but it does not. She takes a breath, unsteady and full of anger rising in the wake of despair, and she is powerless to stop it. "He's a terrible person," she says, and nearly chokes on her words.

Kurapika's voice is gentle. "He's your father."

She doesn't move from beneath the covers, doesn't look at him when she speaks. Her vision is blurred by tears and she lets them fall. "How could you ever forgive him?"

"I don't know if I have," Kurapika says, still accompanying her on the edge of the bed. She can't understand what he means by that, and she doesn't think it's a matter of age or maturity. "I don't think I ever can."

Her next breath is sharp, indrawn. "Then how can you love him?"

"There are things that are difficult to explain," he says quietly. "I love him, but I hate the things that he did in the past. Does that make sense?"

"Not really."

A hand comes to stroke her hair, and she hears him continue. "I took his family away from him too, in retribution."

His next words are a gentle stream, full of coherence and something that pulls at her heart. He tells her of the inexplicable horrors of his homeland's downfall, the vengeance that plagued every aspect of his being, the chance for penance and redemption. Not once does he try to justify what either of them have done. She hears him speak and speak until she has no more tears to spare and succumbs to slumber, weary in the way that sleep cannot touch.

* * *

 **a father's love (and wrath)**

It happens in the midst of the night.

The way her bag is packed is the work of a child, but she holds no childish things inside of it. There are clothes to keep her warm, permissions stacked atop each other to appease her stomach, and a pouch of coins that will surely last a few days.

Runa checks the lock on her bedroom door for the fourth time before pocketing the key. Her hands close hesitantly around the straps of her bag and she pulls it over her shoulders. The weight is nothing compared to the ache that resonates in her heart.

It takes some effort, but she opens one of the windows and pushes herself through there. Her feet touch the ground, and with hands fisted at her side, she takes one last glance at her home—the new paint on the exterior, the wind chime swaying gently in the breeze, the scarlet flowers blooming earnestly in the garden.

She resists the urge to look back. The street ahead of their residence will take her to the heart of the city and from there, she'll find somewhere else to go, as far away as possible from the place she calls home. She refuses to be anywhere near Kuroro for a while, perhaps for good.

An hour later, when the frigid wind becomes too much to bear, when her legs begin to fatigue with each step she takes, she has no choice but to seek shelter somewhere. There aren't too many businesses open at this hour, but past narrow streets illuminated by streetlights, alleyways too dark for her to walk through, she finds herself at a dimly lit establishment. From the moment she steps inside, the scent of ash and smoke bothers her nose.

"Are you lost, sweetheart?"

There's a woman sitting at the bar, surrounded by a group of older men. She crosses her arms over the swell of her chest, once-there lacerations scarring over the expanse of her arms. She looks like she could be the most dangerous person in the room.

One of her men laughs, deep and hearty. "This is no place for a kid."

Runa recognizes that too. "I'm sorry—I'll be going now."

The woman takes a drag from her cigarette, regarding Runa from her hair to her feet, and there's a dangerous glint in her eyes. Runa likens her gaze to the way the smoke escapes from her breath, wisping in the air like the way serpents do. Her manicured fingers flick the ash from the cigarette. "Oh no, you don't."

"What's wrong, Boss?"

Runa carefully steps away, but her back meets the legs of one of the men instead of the glass doors. The entrance is blocked by the men, their hands behind their backs and shoulders straight as if they are standing guard.

"Take a close look." She drops the cigarette on the floor and crushes it with her heel. "Don't those eyes look familiar? Looks just like the kid from the Nostrades a few years ago."

"That kid said he was the last of his people." One of the men lifts a glass of red wine from the table, tilts it to his lips, and takes a long gulp. Rather than setting the glass back on the table, he drops it across from them, shattering it on the floor. His temper doesn't seem as carefully controlled as the woman's own. "That's why he wanted the Eyes."

"Maybe he got hitched?"

"Where are your parents?"

Runa makes no effort to answer. There are two men behind her, but there's another door to the side of the room, absent of any guards. If she's swift enough, perhaps she has a chance to escape.

"Why don't you stay here with us, sweetheart?"

She makes her choice and forces herself to run as far as she possibly can. The door is within reach—so, so close, but suddenly, her arms are being lifted by unyielding hands and there's the sensation of being carried. She thrashes against the hold of one of the men, desperate, but it's nowhere near enough.

"Let go—"

In that instant, all of the glass around them shatters. The windows give out to a view of the evening sky and the quiet streets surrounding the bar, all neon lights on old buildings and flickering street lights.

"I told you not to overdo it," comes a familiar voice.

Runa turns her attention to the intruders, just as astonished as the entourage surrounding her, and her gaze catches on the outlines of two figures. The men guarding the entrance have collapsed on the floor, lying on their faces with no motion indicating that they will be rising any time soon.

"Sorry," Kuroro says with a sheepish smile. A scarlet book rests in his hands, the pages fluttering without any wind, and it's something she's never seen before. "It's been a while, after all."

Kurapika scoffs at his response, then flicks his gaze in their direction. "Hey. That's my kid."

"As I thought." The woman remains in her chair, but all her men have risen, guns are brandished towards them. "It's been a while, Blondie."

"Do I know you?" Kurapika tilts his head curiously. "Actually, I don't make a habit of remembering insignificant details."

"You—"

Kurapika steps over the bodies of the men. "It makes no difference."

Runa's never been afraid of Kurapika before. He's the kindest father she can ask for, with so much tenderness that it makes her heart ache. But she's never seen him like this, his irises a brilliant scarlet, promising an aftermath just as red, striking terror into the hearts of the men enough to transcend lifetimes.

"Close your eyes, Runa." Kuroro catches her when her captor falls. She's still upset at him, but this is no time for that kind of sentiment. She can't bring herself to voice the relief she felt, the way her breath caught in her throat, when she saw them again. "It'll be over in a moment."

And it is.

"I apologize," Kurapika says once the cacophony has died down, his once warm voice laced with ice, "for the mess I've caused."

Kurapika dusts his pants with a sweep of his hand, though there doesn't seem to be anything for him to rid of. Bodies are strewn across floor, but there's no blood loss. He doesn't receive an answer from anyone in particular, because even the woman is only a mess of long hair now, pooling over the floor like spilled ink.

"What were you _thinking_?" Kurapika approaches where she is, still in Kuroro's arms. "You've worried us sick."

She feels herself getting choked up, from relief instead of fear. "You're not angry?"

"Furious, actually," Kurapika answers flatly. "Are you coming home now?"

For a moment, Runa doesn't say anything. She wants to be let down, so Kuroro sets her on the floor and lowers himself on one knee, looking at her at eye-level now.

"I'm not asking you to forgive me. I just want you to know that you don't belong in a place like this." Kuroro presents his hand. "So, will you come back with us?"

Runa's gaze falls on his outstretched hand before she meets his eyes. A step forward, and she wants to throw herself forward in his arms, hold him tight as if she would never leave again—but she doesn't. The sun is rising behind them and there's a golden glow to his dark hair, his skin, that makes her pause.

Slowly, hesitantly, she takes Kuroro's hand in her own and—

The world shifts.

* * *

 **wither**

"Is everything alright?"

Runa startles, fervently banishing the evidence that she had been crying earlier. She sweeps away her tears with the sleeve of her shirt, but Kuroro already saw her. He kneels next to her on the ground, studying the ruined spider lilies before him.

She's avoided speaking to Kuroro and lingering in his presence, though Kurapika insisted that it would take some time for her to adjust. Kuroro's always been a patient man, so he has no problem with waiting. But oftentimes she's too proud to cry, too quiet even as an infant, so he absently wonders what could be the cause.

He doesn't know if she'll answer his question. She averts her gaze to their garden, gesturing to the crushed stems. "I took care of them, but—what could have happened?"

"Hmm," Kuroro offers in thought. She definitely seems to be a perfectionist like her parents. "You did nothing wrong."

Runa turns towards him now, surprise on her face. "But why are they dead?"

"These look like animal tracks." Their garden usually attracts hummingbirds and butterflies, but larger creatures have never made themselves known in their vicinity before. "We can place a protective barrier around your flowers so it won't happen again. Will that work?"

His suggestion seem to ease the tension in her body and she regards the garden with intent, thinking of how to protect her beloved flowers. "Okay," she says, momentarily forgetting any hostility towards him. "Okay, Papa."

It's another start for them, and that's enough for now.

"Did you know," Kuroro says with an apologetic smile, "I've ruined too many things in this garden to count? You are much better than this than me, so don't fret too much."

* * *

 **anniversary (another)**

The next time Kuroro leaves, she goes with him.

He's planning to visit to his old friend because of an anniversary, but she's uncertain of what that means. She has to wear a face mask and cover her body in its entirety, because the environment of his homeland might be too harsh for her.

"Things are better now," Kuroro points out. "There are even clinics and hospitals here."

She's learned that Machi works at these clinics, stitching flesh and skin and piecing people back to a semblance of a whole. Her auntie's a _damn cool lady,_ just like Phinks says. It's been a while since she last saw her, so she's on her best behavior when they meet.

"These are for Auntie Paku," Runa says, offering out a bouquet of daffodils. They're freshly cut from their garden, wrapped in tissue and tied with a pink ribbon, because she heard that these are Paku's most beloved flowers. She's never met her before, so the possibility of meeting another one of Kuroro's friends makes her heart leap in anticipation.

"You're a nice girl," Machi says, and she's never seen her look so sad.

Machi doesn't take the flowers though, and lets her hold onto them. She leads the way to a quiet place, full of well-polished stones with names carved on them, and Runa thinks that she has probably spent more time here than anywhere else.

The bouquet is clutched tightly in Runa's hands when they reach one of the stones. _Oh_ , she thinks, because it never occurred to her that Paku isn't here anymore.

Kneeling between Kuroro and Machi, she learns how to pay her respects. They tell her that memorial stones like these weren't even here a few years ago, but they've been able to do better than makeshift graves and nameless abysses. Even the dead trees around them have hundreds of wind chimes suspended from their branches, fluttering with paper wishes.

Runa hangs a wind chime of her own on the tree, and it gleams silver in the passing sunlight. There's no wish written on the strip of paper, because she wouldn't know what to wish for anyway. But perhaps that's fine, because when the wind blows, only the chime with the blank paper rings lightly.

On their way home, Kuroro tells her the stories she's always wanted to hear. The ones about Kurapika, she keeps close to her heart. The ones about Paku, makes her heart ache. The ones about himself, helps her understand her father a bit more.

* * *

 **home**

Runa has two fathers, and that's more than what most people have.

The first time she punches a boy is when she's seven, because _nobody_ speaks about her family that way.

She's seven and he's nine, and he tries to use the same tactics a bully would, making spiteful remarks about the color of her eyes and the kind of family she comes from. She looks at him like he's beneath her, because if he's going to call her a demon, she'll gladly demonstrate what a demon is capable of.

Having been dismissed early from school, she sits in her bedroom, proud and unapologetic. With a concerned frown, Kurapika wraps a bandage around her sore wrist and tightens it, not enough that it's uncomfortable. He seems to expect an excuse from her, but she has none.

When Kuroro enters the room and asks about the severity of the situation, Kurapika says, "She's fine. It's the other kid whom I fear for."

Kuroro makes a amused sound, almost like a laugh. "Perhaps he deserved it."

A smile nearly makes itself known on Runa's face, but she suppresses it. She takes on a more regretful expression, one that Kurapika is searching for.

"This isn't funny," Kurapika says flatly. He lets go of her hand when he's finished, taking a quick glance at the bend of her wrist. "I don't want her becoming a delinquent like someone here."

Kuroro lays on the bed next to where they're sitting, placing his weight on one elbow. "It was your idea to put her through school. I always said that it was unnecessary when she has both of our genius."

"She needs to make friends and learn like other kids do. It's important for her to grow up with other people around her, not just us."

Kuroro smiles, a slow and languid one. "Why don't we give her a sibling then?"

Without hesitation, Kurapika kicks him off the bed.

Runa laughs.

She is both Kurapika's daughter—a Kuruta with a reverence for their culture and its teachings, fiercely loyal to her loved ones—and Kuroro's daughter—always learning, always reading about the world, curating and collecting the most unconventional of things.

She is a child of both worlds, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Notes:

I wrote 6k words for this chapter since I'm not feeling too well lately, so it's more like something to cheer me up. I've written like 16 kurokura fics so far, so if you're looking for canon-typical characterization, you're more likely to find it in my other fics.

In this chapter, I weaved in an outsider POV for the first time which was interesting since I've only strictly written Kurapika and Kuroro's POV in the past. Hopefully that was alright.

Anyway, thank you very much for reading this self-indulgent piece. If anyone cares for it, then I might write more with the Spiders or Leorio. T_T I would also love for their kid to be a Manipulator or Specialist..

Please feel free to leave a comment. You can find me on Tumblr at seiyuna.


End file.
